Winter Questions
Sleet falling, crystals capturing the night,
Clothing trees with ice like iron,
bent backwards,
barely breathing,
life
out of shape,
Like the old man crooked with his cane,
before he ever needed one, from the years
of burden carried, the future that never came.
So the night surrounds the sleeper,
Falling with dreams of weight,
The ice that presses the mind and heart,
Seizing the
spirit,
Filling the lungs,
From
breathing the night,
with sleet that freezes the will to live,
like blankets with cold comfort covering
the cry--
Awake!
Let night fly!
-- that goes
unheard.
The questions left from winter lingering:
Where is
the sun to melt the ice away?
The cane to
carry the weight of the day?
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